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Migrant workers, the majority from South Asia, form a large part of the population in the countries of the Gulf. In this post we hear the experience of two individuals who have come to the Gulf to work.

Mohammad Iqbal is an Indonesian who lives in Bahrain. He tells us the story of one worker he met:

I recently met a Bangali [Bangladeshi] who works for a hotel as a casual housekeeping attendant. He is actually Public Area attendant, one who takes care all public areas in a hotel, cleaning glass windows, or mopping floors of the lobby. He is not in charge for guest rooms. He does not make up rooms. What’s not fair? He spent BD1,500 (3980 USD) to get working visa in Bahrain. He’s entitled 2 year permit. He’s paid BD10 (26 USD) a day, it means he earns BD240 (636 USD) a month. It’s pretty good pay? Wait..! He has to pay his flat, water, electricity, meal and of course sending money home.

Let’s calculate. For housing, he spends a sharing flat for let say BD50 (132 USD) a month. Then water and electricity will be additional BD10 (26 USD), and then meal for BD40 (106 USD) a month. Don’t forget, since he has a landlord or agent who arranged his employment, including job placement in different places, he has to pay for the agent fee at least BD25 (66 USD). So, total take home pay will be only BD115 (305 USD) a month. In a year (12 month), he can save BD1,380 (3660 USD). This amount is still not enough to pay back the “visa” or “entrance fee” which is BD1,500 (3980 USD). I have no idea whether this amount is legal or not, but one thing I really don't get is that within 2 years he can only save BD1,260 (3340 USD) net. As a conclusion, he spends 1,500 (3980 USD) and sacrifices his two years working very hard for only BD1,260 (3340 USD). To extend another 2 years “working visa” he has to invest again BD1,000 (2652 USD). This means, within 2 years, he gets only BD260 (690 USD) net to save and I still have no clue how he pays for his flight ticket. I really don’t understand since it’s just not fair!

Francine Burlett, a French writer based in Bahrain, had a conversation with an Indian woman called Yasmina on a flight from Muscat to Bahrain in May. This is Yasmina's story:

It’s not easy, my life in Chennai (India), you know. I have two daughters in college. One day, they’ll be doctors. But first I have to pay, pay, and pay some more. […] You know, I’ve just spent nearly two months living in Salalah, in Oman. I left my work there yesterday. I was staying with an Omani family. Madam had ten children – eight girls and two boys – and at the end of May she’ll give birth to the eleventh baby. Did you get that? Eleven children… That’s wonderful. But I won‎’t be there to see if it’s a boy or a girl. I have to go. It’s difficult to leave her alone, without help so close to giving birth, but I cannot stay.

Every evening, her husband would come into my bedroom. Every evening, I would say to him, “I am your employee, not your wife. Go back, your wife needs you. Go back to your bed. You don’t have the right to do that to me. Let me rest, I am tired…” Can you imagine? Ten children, the housework, the cooking, the laundry with tons of dishdashas and abayas to iron every day, the sheets, the cloth diapers, the towels… But you know, I don’t mind working. I don’t know how to do anything else. I am dedicated. I am not afraid of difficult jobs. But he didn’t have the right to do that to me at night. Touch me, bother me. I didn’t manage to stop him. Not strong enough… I had to decide to do something. Quickly.

You see, the domestic workers like me that come from India, Sri Lanka, Somalia or the Philippines, they have two months’ probation, and after that they cannot cancel their contract, go back. Our passports are held in the hands of our employers, and if they don’t want to let us leave, we cannot do anything. You have to honour your two-year contract before being able to go home. It’s the law. I had told them that I wanted to leave before the probation period ended, that it was my right. In spite of that, the husband didn’t want me to.

So then I went on hunger strike. For five days, I did not leave my room, I didn’t eat or drink, I didn’t wash. They called the doctor, and it was he that called the police. There! They accompanied me to the airport. The husband had to pay my plane ticket back home, and give me my passport. It’s the law. But he was nasty right until the end, you know. I don’t know how to read. I couldn’t understand what was written on my plane ticket. It was when boarding, that the Gulf Air flight attendant told me that I was going to Ramanathapuram, and not Chennai, my city. Can you believe it? I refused to board. To go where? To a town that I didn’t know, without money, with anyone, 600 km from my home? Luckily, the police paid the ticket from Ramanathapuram to Chennai. The husband will have to reimburse them. They did the right thing, the policemen, you know. It was 60 Rials (155 USD) extra…a month’s salary for me!

I had already stayed five years in Dubai where I made a “jump” (to make a jump: leave your employer, leaving behind your passport, to take up a more lucrative job elsewhere, but illegally). In the past I have worked two years in Saudi Arabia, two years in Oman. I speak Arabic fluently. If you need someone, don’t hesitate to call me in Chennai. I will come. I really like you. But not straight away. First I want to see my daughters and rest a little…”